The Feed

A dog really knows how to make your homecoming feel like an event. I’ve been gone for training for almost a month straight, and if you know me at all, you know my dogs are basically my emotional support fan club. I have three furbabies, each with their own perfect personality, quirks, and dramatic tendencies. There’s Henry, my Beagle — the leader of the pack. He has liver cancer, but he’s hanging in there with that stubborn, sweet spirit of his. His howl could rival a wolf, h

Let’s just go ahead and say it: learning something new in your 20s and learning something new in your 50s are not the same sport. Back then, you could stay up until 2 a.m., fueled by caffeine, adrenaline, and the sheer thrill of mastering something new. Your memory was sharp, your brain was a sponge, and you could absorb information like it was your superpower. These days? Well… the sponge is still there — it just needs a little more soaking time. But here’s the beautiful par

There’s a certain kind of woman who keeps the world spinning for the people she loves. She’s the one who shows up with groceries when the weather looks dicey, who slips over the mountain just to spend a day with her daughter, who delivers firewood, hugs, and unsolicited motherly check-ins with the same enthusiasm most people reserve for vacations. She’s the one who pops in on her mom with a root beer sno-cone because that’s the current craving, who hands out cookies to her fu

You know that quote floating around the internet — the one that says “Grow old with someone who makes you feel young.” Well, I’m not just growing old with someone who makes me feel young… I somehow landed a man who makes me feel like I should probably have a helmet and a permission slip. Over two years ago, I met this great man. And listen — nobody was more shocked than me to discover there was still a decent one left roaming the earth. I half expected him to glitch like a ho

Let’s go ahead and address the elephant in the room — or rather, the old dog in the room — because apparently I am she. And according to that dusty old saying, I’m supposed to be incapable of learning new tricks. Cute. Adorable. Wrong. See, somewhere along the way, society decided that once women hit “a certain age,” we’re supposed to quietly settle into our routines, sip our herbal tea, and stop making bold life choices. Meanwhile, I’m over here in my 50s kicking down doors

Let me tell you something about life changes: they are the great cosmic sorting hat. You don’t even have to ask people to reveal themselves — life just shakes the tree, and suddenly you see exactly who’s holding on and who’s been dead weight this whole time. Lately, I’ve been going through some shifts — the kind that make you pause, breathe, and say, “Oh… so THIS is who’s really in my corner.” I’ll share the details soon enough, but for now, let’s talk about the cast of chara

Let me tell you something about motherhood that nobody warns you about: One minute you’re lugging diaper bags, Goldfish crackers, and a tiny human who refuses to wear shoes… and the next minute that tiny human is 25, living in another town, and casually texting you, “Hey, wanna go shopping?” like she didn’t once scream‑cry because her sock felt weird. My daughter and I were a duo — the original dynamic one‑two punch. It was just us, so we did everything together. And while I

Father’s Day weekend always brings a swirl of emotions, and this year marks the third one without my dad here to celebrate. What a remarkable man he was. The laughter, the security, the unwavering support — he fathered with a kind of excellence that left a permanent imprint on everyone lucky enough to be loved by him. And for my daughter, whose biological father chose not to be part of our lives, my dad stepped in without hesitation. He didn’t just fill the role — he embodied

At some point in life, you stop asking, “What should I put up with?” And you start asking, “Why on earth am I putting up with this at all?” Because let me tell you — I used to endure. I used to tolerate. I used to bend, stretch, shrink, soften, and twist myself into emotional origami just to “keep the peace.” But peace kept costing me too much. So here’s the truth: I am no longer emotionally available for anything that drains me, diminishes me, or disrespects me. Let me be sp

There was a time when my entire summer revolved around high school volleyball practice and the school calendar. My life was basically: Wake up Take my daughter to practice Work Pick up my daughter from practice Sleep Repeat Now? My summers have taken a decidedly more… unstructured turn. And by unstructured, I mean: retirement parties, concerts, slumber parties, and pickle festivals....anything goes. Because apparently this is who I am now. A Retirement Party to Kick Things Of

I went into my deep‑clean purge with the enthusiasm of someone headed to a dental appointment. I knew it needed to be done — less clutter, fewer piles, and the comforting knowledge that my child wouldn’t one day be stuck sorting through every last bit of my accumulated “treasures.” There’s also the satisfaction of donating things that still have life left in them, or maybe even making a little garage‑sale money if you’re feeling ambitious. Those are the obvious perks. But wha

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about legacy — not the big, dramatic, “name on a building” kind, but the quiet kind. The kind that sneaks up on you in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon when you’re folding laundry and suddenly remember a joke your dad used to tell. The kind that shows up in the way you comfort your child, or the way you instinctively reach for kindness before anything else. Losing my dad cracked something open in me. Not in a tragic way — in a clarifying way.

Let me tell you something about Mother’s Day 2026: she did not come to play. She showed up in full dramatic flair, wearing sequins, carrying emotional baggage, and waving a mimosa like, “Buckle up, sweetheart.” And buckle up I did. Act I: The One Who Made Me a Mom… From a Distance My girl couldn’t make it home because she’s off being an educated, responsible adult (rude). But even from miles away, she managed to send a card that hit me right in the maternal solar plexus. The

Let’s go ahead and break a Southern rule right out of the gate: I’m 54 and a half. And I’m saying it loud enough for the church ladies, the Dollar General cashier, and every cousin twice removed to hear it. There. Done. Somewhere, a magnolia wilted. Growing up in the South, asking a woman her age was right up there with putting your elbows on the table or forgetting to send a thank‑you note — a full‑blown social misdemeanor. But here I am, not only telling you my age but addi

A Sassy Survival Guide for the Spiritually Unbothered Let’s talk about that special kind of person — the one who struts through life wearing a personality they bought off the clearance rack at Target, yet somehow everyone around them is applauding like they’re witnessing the second coming of Oprah. Meanwhile, you’re standing there thinking, “Am I the only one seeing the glitch in this human simulation?” Spoiler: you’re not crazy. You just have excellent radar. And nothing — n

Let’s talk about balance. Not the yoga kind (though shout-out to the people who can tree-pose without looking like a windblown scarecrow).I mean life balance—the kind that shifts, renegotiates itself, and occasionally disappears like your favorite pen when you need it most. Here’s the thing: balance is not a fixed destination. It’s not a trophy you win and display on a shelf. It’s more like a traveling circus act—sometimes graceful, sometimes chaotic, always requiring a litt

Stop auditioning for other people’s approval. You don’t need to shrink, soften, or sand down your edges. The people who matter will love you exactly as you are, and the ones who don’t… well, they can go find a hobby. When we’re younger, we contort ourselves into shapes that don’t fit — boxes we think we should squeeze into just to belong. And I get it. Everyone wants their person, their girl gang, their mothership. We’re wired for connection, and sometimes that longing makes

Some weekends are just… weekends. And then there are the magical unicorn weekends where the universe aligns, the calendar cooperates, and suddenly you’re celebrating Easter, spring break, and your daughter’s birthday all at once. A combo platter of joy. A celebration trifecta. A mom’s dream. This year, I hit the jackpot. My girl came home — my chick back in the nest — and honestly, that alone could’ve been the whole story. There’s something about having your grown kid walk th

Every year, as April Fool’s Day rolls around, the internet dusts off its theories about where the holiday came from. France changing its calendar. Medieval literature. Spring festivals full of mischief. Honestly, the historians can keep debating, because in my family, the origin story is simple. April Fool’s Day began with my dad. He didn’t just enjoy the holiday — he thrived on it. He treated April 1st like it was his personal Olympics, and he trained year-round. Meanwhile,

In case you somehow missed my subtle hints (wink), I’ve written a book. Or two. Or… listen, at this point I’ve lost count and I’m just rolling with it. And while this whole author adventure has brought me joy, chaos, and a newfound respect for anyone who has ever wielded a red pen professionally, there was one thing I absolutely did not see coming: The reunion tour. I’m talking: My kindergarten teacher My 3rd‑grade teacher Folks from my old neighborhood The entire T‑Bell cr